A Pinch of Cinnamon
by musicalsoul
Summary: After a run in with Krad, Dark is worse for wear. He crashes through the branches of a very queer tree, and soon after meets someone who's just as strange as the fragrant plant. Calling him Dork doesn't help, either... --Needs to be rewritten--


_**A Pinch of Cinnamon**_

It was a gloomy night, and Dark wasn't feeling too good in terms of pain; Krad had just (to put it bluntly) quite bashed his butt off—the Phantom thief wasn't all dandy, frankly. His wings flapped uselessly, and his vision was slightly distorted by the haze of blood curtaining the front of his face.

Finally, he gave one last, feeble flap, and let himself careen downwards, not even taking heed of Daisuke's cries inside his mind.

The last thing he saw before he was plunged into leaves was a house; a big mansion, with a huge garden. He assumed he had landed in one of the trees.

Branches cracked, leaves swirled and so did his sight as he slipped through the top canopy of the thick tree. In the end, he was met with the cool ground, and wondered if the stillness was merciful. Only then was he 

aware of the stinging pains across his chin, cheeks and bare forearms. The branches had taken their toll on his skin.

'_Daisuke?'_ he called, searching for his Tamer in the recesses of his mind. When he didn't answer, Dark figured he had blacked out from the shock of falling. He chuckled to himself; under any other circumstances, he would be jumping for joy to be in complete control, for once.

But right now, what occupied his mind the most was not passing out in a stranger's garden. Unfortunately, his grand entrance didn't go by unnoticed.

The tree's upper branches rustled, and a faint whiff of cinnamon drifted downwards, making Dark's mind burst with questions. Cinnamon trees didn't grow in Japan. They grew in tropical places, like Indonesia and Ceylon and Jakarta. You know a little about the world when you've been around for more than a century. So, what was one doing here?

Before he could ponder the thoughts even more, a voice erupted from within the tree.

"Good branches above, what is all this racket?!"

Another, stronger burst of the spice's aroma came wafting through the slender twigs, and Dark tried to make himself sit up.

There was one more crunch as the branches parted, and a girl seemed to appear from within the tree's bark. Dark blinked; his mind must have been playing tricks on him. She looked down at him, her dark hair covering one eye. In the moonlight, it looked eerily like deep jade.

"Oh, you it's you who's disturbing the peace, eh?" she asked, peering at him closely. The girl deftly wove herself through the boughs of the tree, and she was soon next to him on the ground. She bent over, observing him even more carefully.

"You're really scratched up, aren't you?" she said, as if she were talking to an animal. Dark gave no answer, but tried to right himself in an attempt to get up and leave.

The girl merely laughed at his efforts. "What do you think you're doing? You can't possibly think of leaving. You look like you've just run into an oak head-on."

"How nice to see you care," he finally answered, giving up and slumping against the cinnamon tree's bark. The girl gave a shudder, and arched her back slightly. Dark raised an eyebrow at the queer actions of the young woman, but said nothing of it.

"It speaks," she muttered eventually, much to his dislike. "What brings you here?" the girl asked, sitting on her haunches to look him in the eye.

"Nothing you should concern yourself about," Dark said, ruffling his violet hair with a gloved hand.

"Be that way," she huffed, crossing her hands over her chest. "I was just trying to help."

"If you want to help, don't tell anyone I'm here," Dark suggested, and the girl looked confused for a moment. Her face quickly regained its composure.

"Tell? Uh—no, I wouldn't," she tilted her head at him, as if asking a question. "You're not planning to—er—lean against the tree all night, are you?"

Dark gave her another questioning look. "Why do you care?"

"Because—because," she tried to find the right words, but it only succeeded in making her face a pale shade of pink. "No reason," she finally concluded, and sat down more comfortably. There was a moment of silence, but the girl broke it, yet again. "What's your name?"

"Wouldn't you love to know?" Dark murmured, not in the mood for games.

"Be my guest—be a total grump. Would you tell me if I actually helped you treat those nasty scratches?" she offered, throwing a glance at a particularly marring scar that had cut at Dark's chin. Dark looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded carefully.

Daisuke was still pretty much out cold, so he wouldn't have a nagging voice in his head. Thank God for the little miracles.

The girl kneeled over, and inspected the scrapes with awareness; almost immediately, she darted off into the lean boughs of the tree. Several minutes later, she swung down again, plenty of leaves and slim blossoms in hand.

"You think _cinnamon_ is going to do something to wounds?" Dark snorted, his eyes a little wide at the prospect of being doused in cinnamon.

"Sir, I know this tree like the back of my hand," the girl growled, and tore a leaf in two, wincing as she did so. "You'll do well to just shut up and take what's coming with a pinch of salt."

Dark's glum mood only became gloomier as she said the words. _If I'd really taken a pinch of salt for all the things I've 'taken with a pinch of salt' with, I'd die from dehydration,_ Dark thought morosely.

He hissed in pain when something stung at his scratches.

"Oh, be quiet," the girl chastised, pressing the leaf harder against the graze. "It's just the tree doing its work." When she removed the leaf again, the wound was partially gone. Dark's eyes boggled at the sight. The girl gave a small smirk to herself as she pressed a blossom to another scratch over his shoulder.

When the small magic was over, the girl sat back, looking quite pleased with herself.

"So, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious," she said, folding her hands again, "what's the name?"

"You just said it," Dark joked, deciding to play with her a little.

"Your name is 'Tall'? That's weird," she said, craning her head to one side. Her hair shimmered an olive color in the light sifting through the branches. "Actually, there's a guy in a Western called 'Tall'."

"It's not 'Tall,' idiot," he laughed, feeling a little better. "It's Dark."

"That's still a weird name," she remarked toying with a leaf between her fingers.

"I told you mine," Dark pointed out, "so tell me yours."

"_Mine?_ Uh—my name," she stuttered, "my name is—" there was a slight breeze, and the tree seemed to whisper. "My name is—I mean, you can call me Fearne."

Dark was a little suspicious of her stumbling over the words (after all, who wouldn't know their own name?), but again, didn't think much of it. "Fearne? Doesn't sound like a name from around here…"

"It isn't," Fearne assured him, wringing her hands nervously. He took time in observing her features; her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and several strands were loose—it was quite a thick ponytail, too, bulging where she had tied it. Her eyes were a deep, bottle green color, and looked quite unnatural, glowing out of the darkness. A golden bangle jangled at her right wrist, glinting when it moved.

"Why did you come crashing through my—ehm, the tree? You couldn't have just dropped out of the sky," Fearne said, taking the liberty to ask a question while Dark was silent.

"In fact, I _did_ drop out of the sky," he informed her, and Fearne's expression turned to one of surprise. Whiz popped out from behind his back, perching on his shoulder. Fearne eyed the little creature, her sea green eyes sparkling with interest.

She reached out to touch him, and the little creature reveled at her touch. Fearne smiled widely, and stroked the odd animal on the head. At one point, he licked her fingers, and smacked his lips, as if he was tasting something pleasant.

Fearne hastily drew her hand backwards, putting it behind her back and keeping it there. This girl was becoming more peculiar by the minute.

"I have my own companion," Fearne countered.

"Oh, really?" Dark asked, looking around. "I don't see him."

"It's because he's asleep, D_o_rk," she laughed, playing on his name. Fearne stood, and pulled herself up the boughs of the tree again; when she let go, she was holding a somewhat brown, speckled bundle, and when she set it on the ground, Dark could see what it truly was.

The bundle turned out to be a falcon, head nestled in its wing. Fearne chuckled at his expression.

"Isn't he a pretty little thing?" she asked, petting the raptor on the head; he twitched silently in his sleep, ruffling his feathers to a very unbelievable extent and getting more relaxed.

"If you say so," Dark shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. She put the falcon back into his nest; Fearne was slightly angered at his disinterest, but her train of thought ran off the tracks when a voice emerged from inside the house.

"Who could possibly be out there, Larry? It's half past midnight!"

"I tell you, Petunia, I can hear voices!"

Fearne's green eyes became wide, and she turned to Dark. "You must go! That'll be the Master—he'll come outside to check, and I can tell you," she continued, shaking her head, "that he will most certainly _not_ be happy to find you out here!"

Dark's head swam at the onslaught of words, and he got up, leaning on the tree for support. Fearne's body swayed a little to the right, but she kept her balance; well, enough to keep pushing him away.

"Get out!" she hissed urgently, shoving him towards the exit. "Run across the grounds; you should come to a gate—you'll find your way out, I'm sure you will!"

"Geez, don't push," he complained, trying to not lose his footing. "I'll go."

"They'll catch you if you don't go now!" Fearne exclaimed, her hair flying back and forth as she constantly checked for the oncoming inhabitants of the house.

"If the Azumano police can't catch me," Dark laughed, "I doubt it that this guy will." _Not that they're much of a challenge,_ he thought.

Fearne gasped. "You're that thief!" she said, slack jawed, an expression of mortification coming across her pastel face.

"You figured it out!" Dark congratulated sardonically, clapping his gloved hands together slowly.

"This is no time for sarcasm, fool!" Fearne protested. A light illuminated the master bedroom of the mansion, and Fearne turned around to urge the hard headed idiot again, but he was gone. She looked upwards, and found him flying away on black wings.

"What a curious person," she murmured, watching his figure become swallowed up by foggy night. The front door to the mansion swung open, and Fearne hid behind the tree's protective bark. The tree sprite merged into the trunk, leaving no trace that she had ever existed.

As the days went by, Dark's curiosity increased; it soon got the better of him, barraging him with several unanswered questions that he had in his mind ever since he had met Fearne. Who was she, really? Did she live at the house? Why was she up a _cinnamon_ tree at twelve thirty?

He decided to pay her a visit, if his memory actually served well and he could find where he had crash-landed a week ago.

Daisuke could read the thief's thoughts, and he wasn't very eager to carry out the plan that Dark was slowly forming. Besides, he had been unconscious for most of the time, so he didn't really know what had transpired.

'_Daisuke, we have to go there today,' _ Dark told him, and Daisuke rolled his eyes.

'_How many times have you said that?' _Daisuke asked the thief, sighing.

'_But really, I don't know who she is!'_ Dark complained.

'_You don't have to intimately know every girl you meet,'_ Daisuke reminded him, his tone icy.

'_You're still hung over the kiss I gave to Riku? Oh, please! I had to get her quiet __**somehow**__!'_ Dark defended himself, and his Tamer ignored him blatantly. Dark sulked in a small corner of Daisuke's mind, hatching strategies that he hoped would work.

Fearne was feeling horrible; the last few days, it seemed that she had been ill. Her tree's roots were sickly, and her leaves were starting to fall; it wasn't even close to autumn yet. Fearne could feel the disease spread through her body like wildfire, and she didn't know why.

Every time someone touched the tree, she could feel it too; every time the wind blew through the branches, it was as if someone was blowing into her face. But now, Fearne didn't even bother with the comforting feelings she previously had—right now, she felt faint and pale, as if she were about to fade away at any moment.

The falcon, Merlin, stayed faithfully with her, nuzzling himself into nooks and crannies of the tree, hoping to comfort her in some way.

Larry stepped into his garden, his botanist wife in close tow. She was a petite woman, with pertly cut red hair and snappy glasses to match. Once she saw the condition the cinnamon tree was in, her stony expression softened.

"Oh, Larry, it's in horrible condition, isn't it?" she said tenderly, moving closer to her husband.

"I'm afraid so, Petunia," Larry said, shaking his head in disapproval. "I can't seem to do anything to reverse the damage. The only thing I can think of is that the soil here is too poor for it." He put his hand on the smooth bark, and Fearne trembled inside the trunk of the tree.

"Do you think we'll have to take it to the other estate?" the botanist asked, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

Larry clicked his tongue, trying to think. He smoothed his white hair, and looked at the spice tree. "That's probably the only option we have left…but I don't know if it'll survive the transplant," he said, looking the plant up and down. "It's a really long flight to the other house."

"And we bought it for so much money, too," Petunia sighed, stroking the bark of the tree sympathetically. Fearne silently thanked the woman for her compassion.

"Come," Larry said, taking his wife by the hand. "Let's go talk about it over lunch."

Petunia gave a last look at the tree, and she finally went back into the house with her spouse.

Summoning the last of her strength, Fearne made herself appear at the base of her tree, lying back on the bark, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Immediately, Merlin was at her side, chirping questioningly and trying to figure out what got his friend into such a state. She raised a pallid hand, and patted him halfheartedly on the head.

Fearne stopped petting the falcon when she saw what had happened to her hand. She raised her palm up, so it obstructed Merlin's face from hers. She could see right through her skin as if she were cellophane. It was only then that the tears started. Fearne put her head in the crevice between her knees and her torso, holding her knees together with her transparent hands.

"I'm going to die, Merlin," she sobbed, "I'm going to die."

The falcon hopped up to her knee, clucking sadly and nestling into her hair as she cried. Her tree bent over slightly, and groaned in mourning.

'_Doesn't today seem a little…gloomy to you?' _Dark asked, and Daisuke shook his head.

'_Not really. Why?'_

'_Don't know, to tell you the truth,'_ the thief said, thinking about the reasons.

'_Then why did you ask?'_ Daisuke craned his head backwards, hoping to take a break from the algebra before him.

'_I'll have to think about that,'_ Dark said, figuratively stroking his chin. _'Would you like to go for a walk?'_

'_I'd love to…anything to get away from the horrid equations!'_ Daisuke exclaimed, immediately taking his friend's offer up by standing and grabbing his jacket from the coat hanger. He slipped it on, and called to his mother.

"Mom! I'm going out for a walk!"

"Be careful!" Emiko called back, and Daisuke heard her ask when he closed the door, "have you finished your homework yet?"

He hastily got away before he was dragged back for an answer.

Fearne was sitting underneath her tree, still not feeling well and in a stupor from the news the owner of the house had announced. The following morning, she'd be uprooted, and flown to the other side of the world to a fitting greenhouse where she'd grow better.

Fearne didn't want to leave her friends, or the quiet little courtyard she had gotten so used to over the years. She didn't want to leave Merlin looking for another nest, and she certainly didn't want to leave this town without seeing more of that mysterious bandit.

He had piqued her interest too much.

But how was she actually supposed to talk when she couldn't even move her arm at will? Fearne could see through her skin; she could feel her power waning, slowly, painfully, surely. Her branches were motionless and brittle; they were fragile, and they'd snap to the touch.

She was dying an unhurried death, and it could be prevented; yet, the feeling of not wanting to leave was as strong as ever. Fearne leaned her head back onto the tree, the wind blowing wisps of hair out of her ponytail. What was she going to do?

'_This is the house!'_ Dark shouted inside the boy's mind, and Daisuke screeched to a stop outside a pair of large iron gates.

'_Sure is big…'_ Daisuke muttered, and Dark agreed with him. There was a brief pause in the conversation as Dark contemplated what to do.

'_Well, go on! Scale the wall,'_ Dark ordered and Daisuke deliberately _dis_agreed.

'_Why should I?'_

'_Because if you don't, I'll wrench control from you, and go inside myself.'_

'_Good point.'_

Daisuke sized the wall up, and calculated his jump from hand hold to hand hold. Very soon, he was on the other side, dusting off his pants and jacket as he walked amongst the gigantic grounds. The grass had been recently cut, and it smelled strongly.

'_Now, try to find a cinnamon tree,'_ Dark said, and Daisuke stopped in his tracks.

'_Cinnamon trees don't grow in Japan, last I heard,'_ Daisuke reported, and Dark snorted.

'_You think I don't know that? That's why I distinctly remember!'_ the thief objected.

'_All right, I'll go find it. Don't get all whacky,'_ Daisuke said, his patience running thin. There was a gap in his memory, and he didn't like it at all. He couldn't believe he had actually passed out; he never did—so why now?

They came to a bit of bushes, and a very weak aroma of cinnamon came towards them. Dark made Daisuke stop before he cleared the brush.

'_Let's switch,'_ Dark suggested.

'_Why? It's just beyond these shrubs,'_ Daisuke said, but the thief stopped him again.

'_Please, just do it.'_

Fearne had her eyes closed when the bushes rustled and moved apart to reveal none other than the handsome violet-eyed guy she had met a week ago. She couldn't make herself stand up, so she just sat. He came over, and looked at her.

"So…" she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Why did you come?"

"For answers, I guess," Dark answered, a blasé expression fitting his face.

"Ah, I see," Fearne murmured, and opened her eyes slowly.

Something inside Dark's mind was telling him that this girl wasn't alright. The last time he had seen her, she had been vibrant and full of life. Her eyes were now as dead as a pair of fake jewels. Her skin had lost its sheen, and now looked paper pale. Even her hair was limp—the kind of limp that you get when you have a fever.

"You don't look so good," he observed, and Fearne gave a dry chuckle.

"It's true; I'm not," Fearne answered, raking the ground as she shoved her body upwards in a meek effort to right her torso against the trunk of her tree.

"Are you sick?" he asked, and looked her in the eye.

"You could say that," Fearne nodded, her head feeling woozy.

"May I take a seat?" he said, and Fearne nodded again. He parked himself just beside Fearne, close enough that she could feel warmth radiating from him. It only reminded her of her cold body, and how close she was to grow fainter and dying away into the void.

"What are you doing outside if you're sick, then?" Dark inquired, and Fearne closed her eyes for another time.

"I don't live inside the house," she said simply, only raising more unanswered questions.

"You're a stowaway?"

"No, not really," Fearne smiled wanly.

"What are you, then?" Dark said, arriving at the question he'd been wanting to ask.

"I merely am the guardian of this tree," Fearne murmured, putting her hand to the bark again, trying to savor what feeling there was lingering in her fingertips. "Now that the tree's health is vanishing, so am I…quite literally, too," she noted, holding up a translucent hand for him to see.

Dark's breath hitched in his throat. The girl's skin was actually see-through. He raised his own palm, and pressed it against hers. At contact, Fearne's outline wavered, as if she was nothing but an illusion, and became steady again, only seconds later.

"What—what's happening to you?"

"My existence is bonded to the tree's," Fearne explained, her tone still calm. "We both share the same life, and the same feelings. I'm just a human manifestation."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I may just be an outer image," Fearne said, her shoulders slumping downwards, "but I-I still don't want to leave from this life."

A tear splashed down on her closed palms, and her green hair created a blind around her face.

Dark, being a ladies' man, did know what he should do right now—comfort her, right? But…she was essentially passing away, and there wasn't much she could do to stop it. What do you do in these situations? Deciding against Daisuke's disputes, he leaned over and pulled Fearne into an embrace.

The dryad stiffened at his gesture of affection, but eventually let the sway of tears pull her away, and she cried without shame—all the fear, all the anxiety, and all the depression just came washing out in a huge wave of tears that never seemed to stop. Fearne clutched at his arms, trying hard not to shake at her sobs. Since when had she become so sentimental?

She remembered sniffing slightly, and her head spinning; from the tears or the illness, she couldn't tell. But she fell asleep anyway.

Dark was a bit lost in terms of what to do when she drifted off in his arms. This was definitely awkward. But she looked so peaceful, like she hadn't slept in days, and now was…so, he decided not to disturb her.

'_Don't tell me we're sitting here all night!'_ Daisuke said, slightly exasperated with the thief's antics.

'_Don't worry…we won't. I'll simply—er—find a way to put her down without actually waking her up. __**Then**__ we'll leave,'_ Dark said, sounding quite unconvincing.

'_Oh, yes, you do that. Good luck with it,'_ Daisuke answered glumly.

After a few moments of careful maneuvering and cautious movements, Dark set Fearne down; she only twitched slightly in her sleep, but didn't awake.

He regretted that he hadn't come see her earlier. Maybe she would have been in better health if he had. Dark felt a little guilty at leaving her like this—and he didn't really know the reason why.

Fearne awoke the next morning to jolting, shouting, and excruciating pain. She put her hands around her torso, and keeled over with the agony. She was in the dark realm of the tree trunk, with a large window of light showing what was going on in the outer world. What _was_ going on? Fearne labored to open her eyes, and saw a scene that a tree should never see before it in its entire lifetime.

Her roots were being dug up from the ground, and each time that a sharp instrument of gardening hit them, she doubled over, unable to stop the jerks of her body. It felt like someone had tied strings to her limbs, and was making her dance to a crazy beat.

"Be gentle with it!" Larry yelled at the workers, and they scowled at him.

"It's just a Goddamn tree," one of the workers said, and jabbed at a root with a shovel. Fearne's leg jolted, showing a small cut on her femur bleeding clear liquid.

"My husband said to be gentle, so _be gentle_!" Petunia barked, and the workers shook their head at the middle-aged couple. Why would they care so much about a meaningless plant? There were millions of others to replace it; there was nothing special about this one cinnamon tree.

Another wrench of pain shot up her back, and Fearne clenched her fists. A flame of aching started at her neck, and started to burn with such ferocity that tears started to carve a path down her colorless cheeks. It wasn't long before she was screaming out in pain because of the workers' carelessness.

Daisuke was on his way to school, happily shouldering his backpack and thinking what he talk to Riku about during classes. Hopefully, he'd be able to take her somewhere nice, for a change, instead of running around like a headless chicken, chasing priceless artifacts.

Whiz, who was hitching a ride inside Daisuke's bag (a fact he wasn't aware of yet) perked himself up, letting his ears stand towards a totally different direction from that of his head.

Daisuke exclaimed when he saw the rabbit-like animal's head pop out of his bookbag.

"Whiz! What are you doing in there?" he said, but Whiz paid no attention to the red-headed teen. Whiz jumped right out of the bag, and continued hopping along until he came to the mansion they had visited two days ago, Daisuke in close pursuit.

The boy put his hands on his thighs, and gasped for breath. The little creature ran fast for his body size. Whiz stood up on his hind legs and pointed a small paw behind the iron gates.

"Be careful! Don't break the roots!" a male voice came, and Dark jolted awake inside Daisuke's mind.

'_Roots? You don't think…'_

'_There's only one way to find out.'_ Daisuke took a deep breath and walked around the gate until he could see what was going on inside.

Whiz 'kyuu'ed in horror when they saw what was taking place in the interior of the garden. The cinnamon tree was halfway out of the ground, gnarled roots sticking out awkwardly everywhere. The falcon was circling above, swooping down on the workers, looking for something with worried eyes.

A small breeze blew through the garden, and a frail whirlwind of cinnamon blossoms and leaves materialized into Fearne's figure. She was pale, more so than she had been the other day, and was trembling like a piece of paper caught in a storm.

The workers stopped and looked at her, their eyes wide as her silhouette faltered, disintegrating into leaves every now and then.

"Please, stop," she whispered, shutting her nearly lifeless eyes. "You're hurting me."

"What is this?" a worker protested. "Some sort of trick to scare us off?"

Larry looked flustered. "Of course not! I'd never—"

"'Cause if it is, we'll not work here anymore!" the worker went on, waving a spade in Larry's direction.

"I swear to God!" Larry exclaimed, his face red. "I didn't set anything up!"

"Humans never change," Fearne said, shaking her head. Everyone turned to look at her. "I don't know why I actually thought you'd be different. Go ahead! Chop me down! See if I care!" She broke off from her sentence with coughing; her image distorted itself again, and Merlin hovered over her, finally resting on her shoulder.

"How are we supposed to know this ain't a hologram?" one of the workers asked, and the others cried out in agreement.

"I assure you!" Fearne yelled as loud as her failing voice would allow, "that I am not a figment of your imagination."

She coughed again, and a few petals of cinnamon blossom fell from her mouth. Her face contorted in fear, and she touched her lips. Fearne cried, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. "Look what you did! I'm falling apart!"

"Continue with your work!" Larry ordered, and the workers hustled back to finish their job. Fearne looked over to the man, trying to stop the water from rolling down her face. She wiped away her tears, and let herself be absorbed by the tree again.

Merlin squawked in surprise as his stand disappeared beneath him.

'_We have to do something!' _Dark objected.

'_There's nothing we can do!'_ Daisuke told the Phantom thief, hoping he'd understand.

'_But we can't just __**stand**__ here!'_ Dark shot back.

As they watched, the cinnamon tree was hauled away into a truck waiting outside the gates. The roots of the tree looked almost like tentacles, swishing around eratically as the tree was moved from side to side.

And all they could do was watch as Fearne and her tree, were driven away until they were nothing but a speck on the horizon.

Fearne was jostled, jingled and bumped in any and every way possible on her ride towards the airport. She felt—what did the humans call it?—nauseous, like she was going to throw up. But, of course, she couldn't. Trees don't eat with one big mouth, so they naturally don't have stomachs. It was a disturbing thought, once you pondered it for a while.

Fearne held her head close to her knees, trying not to let the movements of the car get to her. _I'll get through this. I __**will**__ get through this._

_**A Month Later **_

Daisuke was walking home, and as usual, the path towards his house led past the old abandoned mansion. The trench where the tree had been dug up was still there, but Daisuke suspected that it had been inhabited by a family of hedgehogs. The falcon, as he had seen many times, still prowled around its old haunt, only leaving the site solely for food and water.

He had often wondered what had happened to the cinnamon tree and the girl that was with it—were they okay? The owners of the house had moved away shortly after the transplant of the tree, saying they were going to live somewhere tropical, somewhere with a volcano, they had said.

Wherever they had gone, it was far away, because the house was only being tended to by a few maids; no one actually lived in it.

Dark had been quite depressed after the girl had left, and Daisuke didn't know why; the thief hadn't known the dryad very well, had he? He only met her once or twice.

_Well…maybe it's because he __**wanted**__ to know her better,_ Daisuke thought, being thankful for the fact that Dark was asleep. He had just remembered that the thief could read his thoughts if he were awake. The mansion sunk out of sight, and Daisuke heaved a sigh.

He wondered if the thief would ever stop thinking about the enigmatic tree spirit. It wasn't very likely.

_**Somewhere in Jakarta…**_

Fearne had been on the way to recovery steadily, regaining her health bit by bit. The gardeners tended her carefully, and the blossoms on her topmost branches had started to bloom again; she was most happy with herself at bouncing back. She had been harvested once, and Larry had been truly happy at the flavor she was producing.

Even though Fearne was quite content where she was, her thoughts drifted back to Azumano city, Merlin and the mauve-eyed thief. She sighed, leaning against the tree trunk. There was no way she was going back; her tree's roots would just die all over again, and this time it wasn't clear that she'd pull through like she did recently.

Fearne had never tried breaking the barrier between her and her tree; it was said to be terribly painful and dangerous to the dryad trying it. She was supposed to stay next to the plant she had to guard, and if she didn't the barrier would hold her back.

The yearning for home didn't abate, either. Muttering, she pushed herself to her legs and decided to give her wild idea a shot. Fearne walked forward, but it wasn't long before her hand smacked into the invisible wall that surrounded her and her tree.

She pushed harder against it, and slumped.

"The probability of me crashing through this is about as much as I'd break down a titanium door," she grumbled, and kicked a rock angrily. Suddenly, she had an epiphany. What if there was loophole in the magic?

Fearne ran up to her tree, and sat on one of the branches; she snapped off a twig, making her chest twinge in pain. She ignored the small shock, and climbed down again, this time clutching the branch confidently.

Fearne walked forward again. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four, five, six, seven, eight…She looked behind her in wonderment. The barrier wasn't working! Fearne did a small dance of joy, holding the sprig of cinnamon wood close to her chest.

She slipped it inside her belt, making sure she wouldn't lose it.

A smile came over her features.

She was going home.

_**A Few Days Later, in Azumano City…**_

_'Must we go on a raid tonight?'_

'_Why is tonight an exception, Daisuke? We do our job—besides, it's not like you're the one being chased by a psychotic fourteen year old bent on revenge,'_ Dark countered, bending his wings slightly to avoid a lamppost.

'_I just feel sick,'_ Daisuke said, making a mental face.

'_Oh, yeah—every time I felt sick, I took a day off,'_ Dark scoffed. _'That's how I got away with stealing things.'_

This banter went on—specifically, until the entrance to the museum. The theft was successful (as always), and this time, Dark escaped with no scathing injuries from his evil counterpart. Yes, tonight was a good night, as opposed to others.

All of a sudden, something went whizzing past his right ear, and Dark ducked just out of the way. When he turned around, he realized it was a bird of some sort. When it flew up to him, Dark saw that it was leaner and faster than any ordinary bird.

'_That's the falcon that lives in the mansion!'_ Daisuke exclaimed, and Dark raised his eyebrows. What was it doing now?

The falcon fluttered up to him, and pulled at his shirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to take his black shirt away from the falcon's beak. Instead, it dodged his moves and tried to yank him further away.

When he finally consented, the falcon gave something akin to a triumphant huff, and led him away. The night was slightly foggy, and it reminded Dark of something that he didn't exactly remember.

The falcon landed, nearly stumbling over itself in joy as it hopped over to a dark figure. Someone's arms scooped the falcon up, and he cooed in happiness. Dark squinted, trying to make out who it was.

But, of course, you _know_ who it was, don't you?

"What've you been up to, Dork?"

_**What does your imagination say?**_

_**Fin**_

© MusicalSoul 2008


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